Nightmare

The moment Luan’s fingers closed around the polearm, the glaive exploded with a golden light. Fire blazed down the blade from the tip, making the polearm shone as if it contained the light of a flame. He nearly dropped it, thinking his glaive caught on fire, but it seemed the flame was contained inside the sword as the polearm was cool beneath his palms.

“Luan Winterlight.” Said a voice behind his back. Everything seemed to happen very slowly. Luan turned. The glaive blazed in his grip. The Erlking stood behind him with wide grin stretched across his face. He wore black silk doublet. His sword hung neatly at the side of his hip.

“Do you think you can kill me?” Inquired The Erlking. His face was bloody, and under the moonlight, he looked vile. His gold-blue eyes gleamed with blood thirst.

Luan swallowed against his dry throat. “I killed you already.”

The Erlking shook his head. “You killed me, but I’m still alive.”

Luan’s face went white. “How?”